Time Stood Still
by teammccord
Summary: Henry comes home. Post 2x22.
_A/N: No reunion? Come on! I couldn't let that happen, so here is my take on it!_

* * *

Elizabeth was pacing. Literally pacing up and down the hallway by the foyer, darting into the office every once in a while. She wrung her hands nervously and busied herself by straightening books and putting loose papers into folders. When had she ever been the type to voluntarily organize her desk, she thought, her eyes falling on a picture of her husband that sat on the windowsill.

Henry. God, she almost couldn't keep it together thinking about all the things that _could_ have happened in Pakistan. What if Murphy's Station hadn't been able to escape? What if Jose had been hit worse? What if the grocer had turned on them? The doctor been too late? The chopper been impossible to reach? Her mind was swimming and she had to take a deep breath to force herself to stop and take a step back.

Henry was coming home safe and sound. That was all that mattered. At least for now. Later, when it all sunk in, Henry would be on the receiving end of some pointed comments, she was sure of that, but right now, she had to focus on actually getting him home. She'd been told it would be best for them if he came directly to Georgetown — the Secretary of State showing up at Andrews to greet a mission that hadn't _technically_ happened would raise too much suspicion. Logically, it made perfect sense, but emotionally, she had no idea how she was going to be able to wait for him to get here, the seconds were already stretching into hours.

She took the time she had to sit down in the armchair in their office and think. Once she'd gotten home herself, Elizabeth had quickly changed into more comfortable clothes. More specifically, she'd found one of Henry's sweatshirts. She'd been overcome with the need to have some tangible piece of him close, since phone calls and sit room video conferences were anything but, and the sweatshirt proved to be her best bet. It smelled like Henry, that unique combination of his shampoo and cologne, mixed with something she could never quite place, some scent he'd carried since they'd met all those years ago.

Now, sitting in the chair, she pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees, burying her nose in the sleeves of the sweater, trying to fill her head with nothing but Henry. It was working for a few minutes, but her mind drifted again, unable to keep from thinking. She still had to figure out how to tell the kids their dad had been in Pakistan undercover, not at a conference in San Diego — boy _that_ was a conversation she was not looking forward too.

When she'd gotten home, Stevie had immediately sensed something was wrong. Not the usual end-of-the world crisis, but something to do with their father. Elizabeth was so grateful for her eldest, for the fact that Stevie knew not to ask questions, to simply pull her mother in for a hug and then promise to take Ali and Jason out to dinner and a movie. She knew, instinctively, that her mother and father needed to be alone for a little while, that the kids would be told what they could know later. So she left with the nerds in tow, as she called them, looking back through the doorway one last time to see her mother waving goodbye, her mask of a smile crumbling ever so slightly as the door fell shut.

Still alone in the house, Elizabeth stood up and paced again. Henry was due to land any minute now, and she was going to get a text as soon as they confirmed the touch-down. Then it would be a matter of about forty minutes for the debriefing and the drive home — if she had done the math correctly. As if on cue, her phone lit up with a notification.

"Wheels down at Andrews. ETA: 45 min." The text had come in from her detail. They'd been sent to pick up Henry, seeing as he'd just come back from halfway across the world. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding as she read the message over and over, her eyes glued to the screen. Relief flooded her senses, much as it had back in the situation room. Henry was one step closer to actually being home, one step closer to Elizabeth being able to wrap her arms around him and hopefully never let go.

The frantic energy set back in, and she nervously twisted her wedding band on her finger. It was a bad habit, one she'd adopted when Henry had been deployed. Back then, it had been a way to be close to him when they were oceans apart. She'd smiled when he'd come back from deployment having developed the same habit, independently from her. Now, they both resorted to fiddling with their rings when they were stressed, running their fingers over the cool metal in futile attempts to calm their nerves. She wondered briefly if he was playing with his ring too, in anticipation, or in impatience as he waited for the car to bring him home.

Now that Henry had a set ETA, Elizabeth thought she'd be able to actually calm down. No luck there, however; a set time only seemed to make the clock tick slower, if that were even possible. She resorted to checking her work email obsessively, surprised to find hardly anything of importance. Blake really was a godsend, she thought, and made a mental note to thank him properly when she got back to the office — the kid went above and beyond any job description.

One last thought filled the corner of her mind that night, triggered by a very odd meeting in a bar with the Russian Foreign Minister. What if Dimitri wasn't dead? What if they could still get him out? What would she tell Henry? Her mind swum with thoughts again, no clear picture forming, and she decided the best thing would be to keep that little piece of information to herself for the time being. The last thing she wanted was to get her husband's hopes up before US intelligence had any sort of confirmation. She left the train of thought at that, shoving it to the back of her mind as she focused once again on Henry's impending arrival.

…

The minutes crept by at a snail's pace, and she drummed her fingers on the arm rest of her chair, beginning a staring contest with the big hand of the clock that hung on the wall. She almost didn't hear the front door swing open softly, but her ears perked up as the hinge squeaked ever so slightly. Elizabeth leapt up from the chair and burst around the corner to see him closing the door and depositing his bag on the floor.

 _He was home._

Now everything seemed to be happening in slow-motion. Henry turned around to face her, and she didn't even notice the look of sheer relief in his eyes, because she had already flung herself into his arms, her face burying itself in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his strong arms around her as the tears fell from her eyes, soaking through his sweater. Neither of them cared. He rubbed soothing circles up and down her back, rocking her gently in an attempt to keep more sobs at bay.

When there were no more tears left to shed, she tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "That couch potato thing have better been a promise," she sniffled.

He choked out a laugh, still overcome with emotion, and dipped down to press a kiss to her cheek. "Pinky swear," he said, holding up his hand and sticking out his little finger. She giggled too, linking their fingers together, making sure he was as serious as she was. "In all seriousness," he added, his face growing somber again, "Baby, I'm so glad to be home, and I'm so sorry you had to go through that — again."

"I was so scared, Henry. I'll never not be terrified, you know?"

"I know, Babe. I'm right here, and I'm fine. I'm back. And I'm not gonna do that again anytime soon. Okay?"

"Okay." She stood on her tiptoes then, and pressed her lips to his. The kiss began chastely, but they hadn't been able to touch one another for so long that it quickly became heated. Hands tangled in hair, tongues duelled, and bodies pressed as flush together as was humanly possible. Every inch of them was on fire, and they practically melted together as one. Pulling apart for air, but still embracing, they rested their foreheads together. The only audible sounds to fill the room were their heavy breaths and the uniform beating of their hearts.

"I love you," they both said in unison, and they smiled. That was what happened when you found your other half.

"I'm still mad, even though what you did was right." Elizabeth struggled to admit it, and she spoke in a whisper, testing the waters gingerly.

"You have every right to be. I know I would be too."

"But right now I'm just so glad you're home."

"Me too. Where are the kids?"

"Stevie took them to go see a movie." He nodded in understanding, grateful for their eldest. Henry saw so much of his wife in her, she was practically Elizabeth's carbon copy, and he smiled at the thought that the world had been blessed with another kind and caring soul. He'd apparently drifted off into his thoughts because Elizabeth nudged his chest, smiling shyly.

She reached for his hand and he entwined their fingers, letting her lead him to the couch. They sunk down on the soft cushions, and curled up together, tangling their limbs together, melting into one. Henry ran his fingers through Elizabeth's hair, and she drew nonsensical patterns on his chest. They were content in simply _being_ , no words needed, and luxuriated in the comfortable silence that enveloped the room. It took Henry a few minutes to notice she was wearing his sweatshirt, and he smiled, fingering the grey cotton hem.

"Are you stealing my clothes again, babe?" he teased.

"Always," she answered. "I missed you."

"I missed you too — so much."

They kissed again, softly, and Elizabeth rested her head on Henry's chest again. She took a deep breath and let the air fill her lungs, exhaling calmly. _He was home._ Nothing else mattered right now. Her world was aligned again, all the pieces back in place. The rest could be figured out tomorrow.

* * *

 _Fin._


End file.
